


Morning Coffee

by xXQueenofDragonsXx



Series: Carlydia One-shots [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, But only if you squint, Carl Grimes being an adorable asshole, Coffee Shops, Dinner, Dinner dates, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Im still super mad about not getting to see Carlydia in the show, Lydia can be a blonde or brunette, Lydia is precious, SO THIS IS MY WAY OF DEALING WITH IT, but she's also a snarky piece of shit, i dont care, imagine her how you'd like, past Enid/Carl Grimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXQueenofDragonsXx/pseuds/xXQueenofDragonsXx
Summary: After being bugged about it for weeks, Lydia finally lets her friend, Enid, bring her to her favorite coffee shop in town. That's where she meets Carl Grimes, an extremely attractive barista who Lydia can't seem to take her eyes off of.
Relationships: Carl Grimes/Lydia
Series: Carlydia One-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029588
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	1. First Meeting

"Why am I here again?" Lydia asks for the fifth time this morning, wanting desperately to be anywhere else. She doesn't even _like_ coffee. Why is she here?

"Because Lydia," Her (supposed) friend Enid repeats once again, having been asked this question many times before. "This is one of the best coffee shops in town. I've been coming here for years. I promise that you'll love it!"

"I don't even like coffee," she mutters under her breath, but despite this, Enid just rolls her eyes, pushing on the front door of the small yet surprisingly charming coffee shop. The bell over the door chimes softly as they enter, and Lydia's lets her eyes begin to roam the building. 

The place is actually kind of cute, not that Lydia will ever admit it. The walls are colored a pale green with dark vines painted on top of it and countless different assortments of plants scattered across the place: hanging from the ceiling, placed in the middle of tables, giant potted plants situated in the corners... Lydia can't help but snort -- whoever designed this place clearly had a bit of an obsession for plants. Her mind doesn't linger long on this, however. Instead, her attention is captured by the man standing behind the counter.

He's bent over the edge of the counter, obviously quite bored with the current lack of customers -- a pen in hand as he looks over a newspaper or, more specifically, the crossword. The man is around medium height -- a little taller than Enid, but would still easily tower over Lydia. He has a lean build, a bandage wrapped around the right side of his face, and his dark brown hair is pulled up into a messy bun that is practically begging to be released from its tie so it could cascade down his shoulders. He rolls the pen in between his fingers, his lips pursing and his eyebrows furrowing in thought. 

_Shit,_ Lydia finds herself thinking, _he's gorgeous._

Lydia watches transfixed as the brunet absently scribbles something onto the side of the newspaper, tapping the pen on his chin before looking up as Enid and Lydia approach the counter -- well, Enid approaches the counter, she kind of just drags Lydia along. His eyes -- or his visible one -- is a piercing shade of blue that she knows she could drown in framed by dark lashes only a little darker than his hair, and she soon finds herself short of breath as his gaze locks onto her own. 

Lydia didn't think she could ever be more captivated until the corner of the man's mouth twitched up into a kind smile, and she could have sworn that her heart actually skipped a beat -- like how it was said in those corny romance novels that Connie likes to read. The man straightens up, twirling the pen between his fingers and cocking his head.

"What can I do for you, ladies?" The low, melodious voice causes a thread of desire to form in Lydia's abdomen, and she absently rubs her legs together, her face turning bright red. The man's gaze moves over to Enid, "wait, let me guess: one giant latte with extra whipped cream and a marshmallow on top?" 

He speaks with a southern drawl, albeit a faint one, and Enid gives a small laugh, obviously familiar with this man. _"Two_ marshmallows, actually. Honestly, Carl, one would think you'd know this by now."

"Ah, my mistake," the man -- Carl -- deadpans. He looks over at Lydia once more, and Lydia already feels the breath leave her all over again. "And what about you?"

"Oh! Um..." Lydia stumbles over her words, and she feels her face growing redder and redder by the second, "do you have hot chocolate?"

Carl grins, and Lydia feels her knees grow weak. "Course we do! Do you want anything on it? Whipped cream, marshmallows, you know, all that stuff?" 

Lydia gives a jerky nod. "Um, whipped cream, please. A couple of marshmallows too." The man grins again, and Lydia finds her eyes drifting over to his lips. She wonders if they're as soft as they look.

"I'm assuming Enid dragged you here?" He asks, ignoring Enid's indignant 'hey!' Lydia nods, wondering why he was asking. "I know how tiring she can be. Trust me, I went to school with her-" he winks, and Lydia lets out a startled laugh, "-want a chocolate croissant to make up for the troubles she's caused you?"

"What? You never give me free food!" Enid protests, crossing her arms and pouting. Lydia ignores her as she smiles at Carl, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

"A croissant would be nice." Carl nods, twisting around and grabbing something out of Lydia's view. He pulls out a plate and slides a fresh pastry onto it, holding it out for Lydia to take. 

"Just pulled them out of the oven," he explains as Lydia reaches out. She takes the plate, her fingers brushing against his, and he motions for Lydia and Enid to grab a table, "we haven't been all that busy today, so just take any." 

Enid and Lydia make their way over to one of the tables, both sliding into a seat. Once she's settled in, she carefully picks up the croissant, inspecting it for a moment before taking a bite. Instantly, her eyes widen, and she has to bite back a moan as the chocolate oozes onto her tongue. What the fuck? Croissants are not supposed to be this good. Whatever, Lydia's not complaining; this is probably the best tasting thing that she's ever had in her life. 

"That good, huh?" Enid says across from her, and despite her embarrassment, Lydia nods.

"Better than I thought," she admits sheepishly. Enid grins, looking triumphant. 

"Told you so!" She chirps, and Lydia rolls her eyes, bringing the delicious pastry back up to her mouth for another bite.

While she's eating, she finds her gaze drifting back over to the table where Carl stood. He's returned to working on his earlier crossword and is now biting his lip in concentration, absently tapping his pen against the counter. Her eyes land on the bandage covering his face, and briefly, Lydia wonders what happened that made him wear it. Obviously it was nothing good, but it's not like it takes away from how gorgeous he is, so Lydia certainly isn't complaining. 

Suddenly, Carl looks up, and Lydia realizes that he's staring directly at her. Immediately, her face flushes -- more so than before -- and she averts her eyes back to the croissant in her hands, finishing up the last couple of bites and trying to ignore the way that she could still feel Carl's stare on her. 

"Honestly, I don't think I've seen you blush this much in my life," Enid says, amusement coating her tone, and Lydia scowls, sending her friend a harsh glare.

"Shut it," she hisses out, but Enid just gives her a cheeky grin, her eyes moving behind Lydia's shoulder to where the counter is. Or, more specifically, where Carl is.

"What?" Enid asks innocently. "I'm certainly not blaming you. I mean, he's cute." Lydia can't help but scoff; cute is _not_ the word she'd use to describe him. 

"You didn't tell me that you knew the guy who worked here," Lydia bites out accusingly, arching a brow at the sheepish expression that crosses over Enid's face.

"We used to date back in highschool," Enid admits, shrugging, "but we decided we were better off as friends. I go over to his family's house a lot -- his parents practically adopted me." 

"And none of that ever gets awkward for you?" Lydia asks, startled. She's never really been one to date, but she pretty much never spoke to any of her former boyfriends. Henry was the main exception, seeing as all they ever did was kiss, but even then, things were still slightly awkward between them. "What about Alden?"

"No, not really. But I'm ninety-nine percent sure that my mom and dad wish I were still dating him, though," Enid shrugs, playing with a couple strands of her shoulder length hair, "and Alden doesn't really mind. He knows that we're just friends."

"Hm," Lydia finds her eyes trailing back over to Carl, who is now shaking up a can of whipped cream.

Enid leans forward, "seriously, you should talk to him. I promise he doesn't bite. Well, unless you ask him to." Enid gives her a wink, and Lydia splutters.

"Enid!" She soon manages to hiss out, horrified.

Before she can say anything else, however, she realizes that Carl is now approaching their table, holding a tray with two steaming mugs placed neatly on top of it. He sets it down on the table, hesitating as he takes in Lydia's flustered expression and Enid's cheeky grin. 

He snorts, eye flitting between the two of them. Finally, his gaze settles on Enid. "Enid," he admonishes slowly, "what have I said about mortifying all of my customers."

"Oh please, I hardly believe I'm mortifying her." Enid shoots back, looking over the two cups Carl dropped off before taking her own. Lydia reaches out seconds later, taking the other mug in her hands and peering into it. "Right Lydia? I'm not mortifying you."

"I beg to differ," Lydia mutters under her breath, her heart doing a flip when Carl lets out a bark of laughter. 

"I'll just leave you two to enjoy your drinks," he says to them, obviously amused. He then turns, heading back over to the counter right as an old couple enters the building. Lydia twists around, watching as he greets the pair with that exact same easy-going smile as before. She wonders how long he's been working here for. He's obviously quite familiar with the place. 

"You are not being subtle at all," Enid observes, her voice coated in a mix of amusement and exasperation, "are you just gonna keep staring at him, or...?"

Lydia's face flushes a bright red, "shut up," she mumbles, bringing her mug of hot chocolate up to her face in an attempt to hide the flustered expression she now wore. 

Trying to focus her attention on literally anything else, Lydia starts blowing on the top of the steaming cup. She plucks one of the many marshmallows off of the mountain of whipped cream, popping it into her mouth. She waits a few more minutes before finally deciding to take a sip.

The moment the liquid touches Lydia's tongue, she yelps, a series of curses that would make even Daryl blush escaping her lips as she hurriedly places the mug back down onto the table. Across from her, Enid laughs, not looking the slightest bit surprised as she pulls a water bottle out from her purse and slides it across the table to Lydia. 

"Yeah, they really aren't messing around when they call this shit 'hot chocolate.' If I got a dollar for every time I burned my tongue on it, I'd be rich as fuck." Enid says idly, watching as Lydia uncaps the water and practically inhales a good quarter of it. 

"Why didn't you warn me?" Lydia says grumpily. 

Enid shrugs, "it's not a true coffee shop experience if you don't burn your tongue at least once." 

Lydia scowls, refocusing her attention back onto the mug sitting before her. She blows on it some more, not wanting to burn her tongue any more than she already had. As she's doing this, something white from underneath the mug catches her attention. Curious, Lydia lifts up the hot chocolate, slowly unsticking the piece of paper from it. 

Upon closer inspection, Lydia realizes that it's a receipt paper, but as she uncrumples it, she notices something written in blue ink near the bottom. She folds the paper in half, squinting as she tries to get a better look at the words written onto the receipt. 

_12312 932111_

_This might be a bit corny, but what do you think about grabbing dinner together sometime?_

Lydia lets out a startled laugh as the written words finally register within her mind. She turns around in her seat, ignoring Enid's questions as she does so. Lydia sits up, a grin spreading across her face when Carl turns to look at her. She holds up the receipt giving him a small nod. Almost instantly, he beams, and Lydia feels her whole body go warm.

Maybe today isn't all that horrible after all. 


	2. The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have finally decided how I'm going to portray Carl and Lydia in this. I'm keeping Carl's show appearance. But as for Lydia, I'm going to describe her as a blonde with brown eyes -- which is a mix between show and comic Lydia for those who don't know -- though, of course, you can imagine her any way you'd like. I'm not stopping you! 
> 
> Carl is 6 years older than Lydia in this -- while I did consider sticking with comic ages, I ultimately decided to just go with show ages. I hope this doesn't bother anyone too much. If anyone has any questions, I will be happy to answer.
> 
> Also, yes, before anyone asks, Elodie and Colette (Michonne's comic daughters to anyone who may not know) do exist here.

_Lydia Dixon to Carl Grimes: Hi Carl, this is Lydia. Sorry I couldn't text you earlier. I had class and shit. It was all kind of a nightmare._

_Carl: Lol, no worries. I've been there._

_Carl: Also, class? How old are you? I'm not breaking any laws, am I?_

_Lydia: I swear to god, if you think I look younger than 16, I might have to smack you._

_Lydia: I'm 19, btw._

_Carl: Oh, thank god._

_Carl: Let me guess, Uni?_

_Lydia: Unfortunately._

_Lydia: How old are you?_

_Carl: 25._

_Lydia: Really? I thought you were like 22 or something._

_Lydia: Wait, you work at a coffee shop at 25?_

_Carl: My friend is the owner, and the work has good pay._

_Carl: Plus, I like to bake._

_Lydia: Ooo, can you make brownies?_

_Carl: Yes._

_Carl: My sister likes to tell me that I make the best brownies in the world, but she might be a little bit biased._

_Lydia: You have a sister?_

_Carl: Yeah, multiple._

_Carl: First, there's Judith. She's 12 going on 30._

_Carl: Then I have two step-sisters, Elodie and Colette -- they're my age._

_Carl: I also have two brothers. Andre and RJ._

_Carl: Andre is 16. RJ is 7._

_Lydia: Cool._

_Lydia: I'm an only child, unfortunately._

_Lydia: Or fortunately. I wouldn't wish my mother on anyone._

_Carl: Dare I ask?_

_Lydia: Long story short, she's in jail for killing my dad_

_Lydia: And, like, a hundred other people._

_Lydia: I'm also 99% sure that she started a gang._

_Carl: Well, shit. That's bad luck._

_Lydia: Tell me about it._

_Lydia: I'm sorry, I kind of just dumped this all on you, didn't I?_

_Lydia: Like, "hello, yes, nice to meet you. Did you know my mom is a psychotic bitch who's in jail for murdering hundreds of people?"_

_Lydia: who tf says that?_

_Carl: Honestly, it's not the weirdest conversation I've had over text._

_Lydia: gotta admit, I'm a little curious now._

_Carl: Let's just say that with a family as big as mine, a person is bound to have a lot of weird conversations._

_Carl: And a lot of silly threats_

_Carl: Judith once threatened to eat my toenails because she heard Colette say it one time. Which was really weird, especially since she was using my dad's phone._

_Carl: Granted, she was like 5. But still, it's kind of worrying when you get a text like that from your dad._

_Lydia: Lmao, I can only imagine._

_Carl: So... changing the subject here._

_Lydia: ooo, okay. Thanks for the warning._

_Carl: lol_

_Carl: So I know that I have only spoken a couple sentences to you, and I only met you this morning, but I was wondering if you were interested in dinner sometime soon._

_Lydia: Isn't that what you wrote on the receipt paper?_

_Lydia: Also, dinner sounds nice. Just nowhere fancy please. I'm told I have my father's manners when it comes to food._

_Lydia: sorry, adopted-father. Not my real one._

_Carl: I did write it there; I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it._

_Carl: Also, that's fine. I don't really like fancy restaurants either._

_Carl: Not that I can even afford going to one, lol_

_Lydia: Can anyone?_

_Carl: Idk, it always leaves me broke af after._

_Carl: You free at 5 tomorrow?_

_Lydia: I am._

_Carl: Well, not anymore._

_Carl: Meet me at Beth & Maggie Greene's Coffee Shop at 5. _

_Lydia: just to be sure, that's the one you work at, right?_

_Lydia: I was too busy sulking to really be paying attention to the name._

_Carl: it is._

_Lydia: Oh, thank fuck._

_Lydia: I'll meet you there!_

* * *

"Addy, do you know where my blue shirt is?" Lydia calls out as she rummages through her closet, throwing various articles of clothing all over the room without a single care. She's wearing a tiger-stripe patterned bra and blue jeans, having thrown her shirt onto the bed a couple minutes before. "The one with all the flower patterns and shit?"

After finishing up with her classes, three of which containing lectures -- Lydia had almost forgotten about her date until she had spared a quick glance down at her phone, realizing it was 4:30, and she hadn't even started to get ready yet. That had been around ten minutes ago, and Lydia is totally frantic as she tries to figure out what to wear for her date. Can Lydia technically call it a date? She doesn't really know. Dinner counts as a date, right? 

She's pretty sure it does. But that only makes her more stressed. What does one wear to dinner? She knows that they're not going to anyplace fancy, but she can't help but worry. In most cases, she would just throw on a top and some jeans and be done with it, but a large part of her wants to impress Carl -- and she's pretty damn sure that wearing jeans and a top wouldn't do that.

"Addy, I haven't been on a date for two years! What do I even wear?" Lydia cries out as her roommate shuffles into the room, a cup of coffee in her hands as she adjusts her glasses, peering at the mess that was Lydia's room with wide eyes.

The two of them had met during senior year at highschool and had become one of Lydia's first friends. Although Lydia had come to school late (thanks to her dear old mother) and therefore was quite behind, Addy hadn't avoided her as most kids had. Instead, she and Henry had banded together to try and get Lydia to open up. The three of them may not have a lot in common, but Lydia would trust Addy and Henry with her life. 

It doesn't hurt that Henry's step-mom and step-sister are both damn good cooks too. Even now, Lydia, Addy, and Henry often gorge themselves on Sophia and Carol's food whenever they get the chance. 

"Why do you think I know? Do I look like the kind of person to go on dates at all?" Addy asks with a yawn, leaning against the doorframe and motioning to herself. "I am literally the definition of a walking mess."

"That's because you literally just woke up from a nap," Lydia shoots back, "we all look horrible when we wake up. And don't lie to me, I know you and Henry went on a date a couple weeks ago."

A blush covers Addy's face, but Lydia ignores it as she holds another shirt up to her face. It's a blue one with long sleeves, one that Carol made for her a couple years back made of soft cotton that Lydia's only worn a few times _. It'll do,_ she decides after a moment, tugging it over her head in one swift movement. 

"Okay fine, I did do that," Addy confesses, "but honestly, Lydia, I can't even remember what I wore. It was nothing fancy, though. I can remember that." Addy steps into the room, leaning down and picking up a pair of black jeans that had fallen to the floor. "Why don't you wear these as well, and do you want me to do your hair? I could probably make it into a nice braid because we both know the fanciest hairstyle you can manage is a ponytail."

Lydia snatches the pair of jeans from Addy's hands, taking off the blue ones she is currently wearing and replacing it with the black ones. She takes a look at herself in the mirror, worrying her lip as she looks over herself. She doesn't look too bad, but her hair can definitely do with some braiding or something. Lydia still has the bedhead from this morning. 

Lydia really wishes she could pull off the messy bun Carl had the other day, but even if she tries, Lydia doubts that she can get it to look as good as his had. He has the hair of a literal fucking angel, and it is _so_ unfair. 

"A braid would be nice, just do it quickly -- I only have-" she takes a peek at her watch, cringing when she realizes the time "-thirteen more minutes."

"M'kay, come here," Addy commands, motioning for her to sit down. Lydia obliges, taking a seat on her bed. The mattress dips beneath her as Addy plops down behind her. Lydia pulls her long blonde hair out of the messy ponytail she had it in, handing Addy the tie so her friend can get to work.

Addy starts working through the tangles with her fingers, ducking into the bathroom to grab a brush a few seconds later. She starts running it through Lydia's hair, and after she deems it smooth enough, she splits Lydia's hair into three sections and starts to cross them together. Lydia's foot taps against the carpet anxiously as the seconds pass by, nerves bubbling up in her stomach as she notes how much time she has left until 5 pm. 

Lydia is super lucky that the coffee shop is so close to where she and Addy lived, or else she would be late as hell if she wasn't going to be already. Then again, from what she's seen so far, Carl isn't too impatient -- the opposite really -- but she does not want to keep him waiting for long. What kind of impression would that leave if she was late all the time?

"All done!" Addy announces suddenly, and Lydia jumps to her feet, taking a good look at herself in the mirror. She immediately heaves a sigh of relief -- Addy has saved her ass once again. The braid looks gorgeous, much better than Lydia could ever get it, and she spins around, engulfing her friend in a tight hug.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You are _amazing!"_ Lydia cries out in relief, pressing a wet kiss to the top of her friend's head. Addy makes a face, shoving Lydia away playfully.

"Yeah, I know. Now get the fuck out of here. You have a date to get to, remember?" 

* * *

Thankfully, Lydia manages to get to the coffee shop right as 5 pm rolls around.

Carl is standing outside when she finally makes it there. He looks up as Lydia crosses the street, straightening up as she approaches. Not only that, but as Lydia gets closer, he brings one of his hands out from where they are behind his back, holding out a beautiful bouquet of flowers that takes her by surprise. 

They're beautiful -- that's the only way Lydia can describe them. She wishes she knew what they were. Lydia can easily recognize a couple of roses and orchids, but the others she couldn't identify as well. Still, Lydia takes them from Carl with great care, burying her nose in them and inhaling the soft flowery aroma. No one's ever given Lydia flowers before, that's a new one, but she certainly isn't complaining. The flowers are a pleasant surprise and a wonderful gift. 

"Do you like them?" Carl asks anxiously, ducking his head and giving her a shy smile. The action causes Lydia's insides to turn to jelly -- he was too sweet! "I wasn't sure if you're the kind of person to like flowers. But I saw these at the store, and I couldn't resist buying them."

Lydia beams up at him, ducking her head down for another sniff. "They're beautiful, thank you so much!"

Carl lets out a whoosh of air, looking immensely relieved. "I also brought some brownies -- I made them myself." He looks proud as he says this, and he reaches into a bag hanging over his shoulders, taking out a pan of brownies, plastic wrap covering its top and sides. 

Lydia's eyes widen as she reaches out. "Oh! You didn't have to!" Still, she can't help the grin that spreads across her face as she takes it, her smile turning wider at the chocolatey smell that emits from the pan. "Well then, I'm definitely keeping you. These smell amazing!"

A blush spreads across Carl's face, and he ducks his head, looking bashful. Lydia slips the pan of brownies into her own bag, careful not to move them around too much. 

"So, shall we then?" Carl asks, peering at her through his one visible eye. Lydia grins up at him, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

"Lead the way, Mr. Grimes. Our date awaits."

"Of course, m'lady," Carl teases, extending his hand and giving a playful bow, and if Lydia's face isn't already as bright as a tomato, it definitely is now. She adjusts her hold on the flowers, taking Carl's outstretched hand and attempting her best impression of a curtsey. 

They start to walk, and Lydia begins to realize just how warm Carl's hand is. The air around them is chilly, and she squeezes it a little tighter. 

"Trying to cut off the circulation in my hand?" Carl asks, raising a brow. Lydia can't help but laugh, bumping her shoulder into his.

"I can't help it -- your hands are so warm!" Carl smiles at her, and Lydia's heart does another flip. Fuck, why does he have to have such a cute smile? That is so not fair -- people shouldn't have such adorable smiles. 

"Enid tells me I'm a walking furnace." Carl admits, ducking his head. "My step-mother, Michonne, says that my dad is pretty much the same." 

Lydia grins. "They're not wrong." Then, she tilts her head to the side, processing his other words before asking, "step-mother?"

"My biological mom died when I was thirteen-" Carl says after a moment, "-while giving birth to my sister. She had to have a c-section, but something went wrong and..." he trails off, shrugging. "My dad met Michonne not long after -- she was his lawyer because apparently a lot of people don't believe that someone can be a single dad, which is total bullshit if you ask me. It didn't help that my mom's family kept trying to take Judith and I away from him."

"Shit, that sounds horrible." But not all that different from what happened with Lydia a couple years back. "I was too young to really remember my dad. And when I finally got away from my mother, not a lot of people believed a woman could be abusive -- they nearly sent me back to her." The mere memory of the court session that would decide where Lydia would end up still scares her whenever she looks back on it. Even though Lydia knows that she never has to lay eyes on her mother ever again, that her mother is locked behind bars where she can't hurt Lydia or anyone else ever again -- it just scares her sometimes. How close she got to being back in her mother's grasp, how close her mother had been to being freed.

"The government sucks balls sometimes," Carl says decidedly, and Lydia snorts, nodding in agreement.

"It really does," she agrees, the two of them stopping as they make their way to the end of the sidewalk, "how long have you're dad and step-mom been married?"

"For around eight years," Carl says after a second or two, tilting his head as he thinks about the question, "nearing year nine. They're not any less sappy, though." 

Lydia smiles at this, stepping forward as they begin to cross the street. She finds herself leaning against Carl as they walk, her chest feeling all warm and fuzzy. This whole thing is just so surreal. 

Her eyes dart down, noting the dark jeans Carl wore along with a dark blue button-up. _They match his eyes,_ she realizes, _or at least, his visible one._ His hair is in the same messy bun as it had been before, and it doesn't look any less captivating either. If anything, it makes him look hotter. 

"My adopted parents are the same way," Lydia begins, drawing Carl's attention back to her, "I don't really call them mom and dad. Just by their names, Connie and Daryl, but they've been better parents to me in three years than my own mother has in my entire life." 

"You must love them a lot," Carl says softly, and Lydia nods.

"They're wonderful," she says, grinning shyly up at him. She doesn't know why she feels so comfortable with telling him all of this -- even with Daryl and Connie it took her a while to open up. But for some reason, it wasn't as hard to tell Carl these kinds of things, even if she only met him yesterday.

Is this moving too fast? She doesn't know -- her love-life had been almost non-existent up until this point save for a couple of (pretty bad) dates a few years back.

Honestly, Henry had probably been her only decent boyfriend. 

"I hated her at first," Carl says suddenly, and Lydia gives him a curious look, "Michonne," he clarifies, "I hated her when my dad started dating her because... well, a lot of stupid reasons. It wasn't until he told me what she did for us -- how she helped him keep custody of Judith and I -- that I finally stopped being such a brat." 

"You love her now?" Lydia asks, and Carl nods.

"Yeah, she's actually the one who taught me to bake," Carl looks sheepish as he says this, "I didn't want to at first -- I thought baking was a girl thing -- but she made me realize it was actually really, really fun." 

"I'll have to thank her when I meet her then, thank her for teaching you to make such delicious looking brownies."

"She's the one who gave me the idea to make you those, actually," Carl reveals, "and she reassured me that giving you them wouldn't be weird. I kept thinking it would blow up in my face or something."

"Why would you think that?" 

Carl bites his lip. "Well, maybe you would have thought that it was weird. Kept thinking, 'what if she doesn't like brownies, what if she's allergic to something in them?' Shit like that."

Lydia can't help but let out a loud laugh, "Oh wow, you are definitely an overthinker, aren't you? Do you usually worry that much?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Carl says with a nod of his head, "I just... really wanted this to go smoothly. I texted Enid earlier about it -- she called me stupid."

Lydia snorts, "that sounds like her." She looks up at him. "If it helps, I was panicking a lot too." 

"Good to know," he says, and Lydia laughs again.

A few minutes later, they arrive at a small restaurant near the end of town -- a couple of blocks away from the coffee shop -- and to Lydia's immense relief, it's a restaurant that she's been to before. And it's not anyplace fancy either, but not too messy at the same time.

"I come here all the time," Carl admits as they approach the place. He holds open the door as Lydia ducks inside, and she blinks as her eyes adjust to the somewhat dim lighting. The building, thankfully, isn't too packed with people, so the two of them shouldn't have very much trouble finding a seat inside. 

Lydia lets her eyes roam across the building as she steps through the door, recognizing a couple of the regulars sitting at a few nearby tables. "Daryl and Connie come over here all the time," she tells him, and a curious look passes over his face.

"That's cool," he says, stepping into the small line leading to the hostess booth, "I used to work here too actually -- back in highschool. It wasn't nearly as popular then, but I was honestly just glad I was getting money."

"Do you usually work in restaurants?" Lydia inquires.

"I want to start a bakery one day, actually. But I don't have nearly enough money to do that. So I just settle for what I have." Lydia is pleasantly surprised by this piece of information. A bakery? That's... actually a really, really good idea. 

"Name?" The hostess says as they reach the booth.

"Grimes," Carl says, and Lydia blinks in surprise. _Did he make a reservation?_

"Table for two?" The hostess clarifies. 

"Yup," Carl confirms, and the hostess grabs a pair of menus, motioning for them to follow. Lydia and Carl are led to a table near the back of the restaurant. There are not many people in this area, thankfully. Not that Lydia has a problem with people being near them, she just preferred not being close to strangers. 

The table is situated near the fireplace with a plant of some kind placed in the middle of the table, reminding her somewhat of the coffee shop she met Carl at -- it's cute. Not too fancy, not too dingy. It's the perfect mix of both.

"I'm judging by the look on your face that you like it?" Carl asks, tilting his head as he looks her up and down.

"Definitely," Lydia assures him, plopping down into her seat and placing her bouquet on the side of the table. "Just so you know, this date isn't even finished, and it's already ten times better than all of the ones I've had in my lifetime."

"Really?" Carl raises a brow, looking surprised. He slides into the seat across from her, giving her a kind smile as a waitress approaches the table.

"Can I start you two off with something to drink?"

Lydia bites her lip, unsure. "I'll just take a water." She decides after a moment.

"I'll have the same," Carl says.

As the waitress walks away, Lydia finds herself playing with a lock of blonde hair that had fallen into her face -- something she often did when nervous. It, for some reason, drives Enid insane whenever the older woman sees her doing it, but Lydia cannot for the life of her figure out why. 

"So..." Carl drums his fingers on the table, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Twenty questions -- to break the ice, I guess?"

"Sounds good," Lydia agrees, biting the tip of her tongue as she thinks about it. "Can I ask the first question?" Carl gives her a small nod, leaning forward and tilting his head to show that he's listening. "Okay, how long have you been working at that coffee shop?"

Carl snorts, running a hand through his hair as he leans back, considering the question. "Since Uni, so... that's around six years."

Lydia raises her brows at this, kind of surprised. "That long?" Carl nods, and she whistles, grinning at the flustered expression that crosses over his face. The waitress comes back with their waters, and Lydia takes a long sip before leaning forward. "And... you've never once considered finding another job?" Carl shakes his head.

"Well, I've considered it." Carl backtracks, resting his chin on his hand. "But most jobs I try out are boring as shit, and none of them really catch my interest. Beth and Maggie pay well, and it's not the only way I make money. I already told you I have a big family, which means a lot of kids, so I get asked to babysit a lot. Beth and Maggie also own their dad's old farm, so I help out there when I can." Carl shrugs, looking sheepish.

"You like kids then?"

"It depends," Carl responds, "I mean, Maggie's son, Hershel, is a little demon at times -- she and her husband kind of spoil him -- but he's a sweet little boy when he wants to be. It's kind of like that with all children." 

"I usually just avoid them, to be honest," Lydia admits, ducking her head. "Also, I think it's your turn." 

Carl nods at this, twirling a strand of brown hair in front of his eye. "Hmmm, let me think."

"Make it good." Carl snorts, looking amused.

"Okay, okay, I promise I will."

Carl taps his fingers against the table, straightening up. "Okay, my question is: how do you know Enid?"

"Therapy," Lydia deadpans, and at Carl's surprised look says, "you know about Enid's abusive ex-boyfriend, right?"

"Ron Anderson -- I am, unfortunately, familiar with him." Carl says, looking miffed. "My dad was the one who put him in jail."

"Right, well, we were both in therapy for obvious reasons, and we had this talk group where a bunch of us would talk about our experiences and all that shit," Lydia shrugs, "me and Enid kind of just became best friends because of that."

"Shared trauma?" Carl asks, and Lydia nods.

"Shared trauma."

"Are you two ready to order?" A voice asks, and Lydia looks up just as the waitress approaches the table. Lydia flushes, realizing she hadn't yet looked at the menu. She takes a quick look at it as Carl makes his order. 

"Can I have the chicken wings?" Carl asks. The waitress nods, scribbling his order down before looking over to Lydia. 

"And for you, miss?"

Lydia straightens up, giving the waitress a nervous smile. "Can I have the..." she takes another look at the menu, "clam chowder?" 

"Okay," the waitress scribbles that down before looking back up. "Is that all for you right now?"

Carl looks at Lydia, a question on his face, and she shakes her head. He looks back over to the waitress, "that will be all for right now, thank you."

Lydia watches as the waitress walks away. She then returns her gaze to Carl, "I'm asking my second question now." She announces.

"Okay," Carl smirks, leaning forward, "fire away."

"Is it weird being eighteen years older than your youngest brother?" Carl looks unsurprised at the question, leaning back as he considers his answer.

"I mean, yes and no. I love RJ, but it does get a little weird considering I am, technically, old enough to be his father." Carl shakes his head, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. "If I could count the number of times people have come up to me and called him my son, I would be rich. It's the same thing with Judith, even if the age difference isn't as great."

"How do your parents react to this?" Lydia inquires, sipping her water.

"Michonne thinks it's hilarious," Carl says, amused, "my dad sulks about it sometimes though, especially when Judith decides to fuck with people and call me 'dad' and him 'grandpa.'"

"Oh my god, she does that?"

"She's got RJ to do it too." Carl adds, a laugh bubbling at his lips. "Andre, my step-brother, thinks it's hilarious. So do Elodie and Colette. Honestly, I don't blame them. The look on some people's faces is honestly just amazing." 

"I can imagine," Lydia says with a grin.

Carl leans forward until he can put his elbows on the table, "Question number two-" he holds up two fingers, and Lydia has to bite back a laugh, "-what's your favorite kind of chocolate?"

"Milk chocolate, of course. I'm not crazy!" Lydia says, letting out a haughty sniff. A smile spreads across Carl's face, and he laughs, the sound only causing the butterflies in Lydia's stomach to act up even more.

"Yeah, same. Milk chocolate is the best kind," he tilts his head, looking to be considering something before saying, "though white chocolate isn't so bad either."

"Good," Lydia says, leaning back into her chair, "if you said dark chocolate, I might have had to smack you." 

Carl laughs at this, his one blue eye twinkling with mirth. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his bun even more, but he doesn't seem at all bothered by this -- if he even notices it at all. 

Lydia holds up three fingers, "my turn," she announces, "are you and your step-mom the only ones who cook in your family?"

"Pretty much," Carl says, nodding. "My dad is quite possibly the worst person to have in a kitchen, _ever._ Judith is even worse, somehow. Whenever she tries to help Michonne or me in the kitchen, it almost always ends up with the kitchen set on fire-" Lydia nearly spits out her water, staring over at Carl with wide eyes. 

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Completely. At this point, Judith is on a first name basis with the firemen. But now we know not to ever let her go in the kitchen without supervision, which is good!" Lydia bursts into a fit of giggles and Carl's smile turns wider. "But for some reason she still insists on being able to help. Apparently she thinks that if she sets fire to enough kitchens, she'll actually get good at cooking. And while I admire her determination, I'd rather if she didn't burn the entire house down." 

"Isn't she twelve?"

"Supposedly, she often switches between having the mentality of a five-year-old and a thirty-year-old, so it's hard to be sure."

"Damn, that sounds super chaotic," Carl lets out a heavy sigh, but there's a fond smile on his face as he nods.

"Trust me, it is, but I'd never trade it for anything." Lydia hides her mouth behind her water glass in an attempt to hide the wide smile that had spread across her face after Carl says this. She had met plenty of people who hated having large families, and it's surprisingly refreshing to hear otherwise.

They spend the next ten or so minutes switching between their questions and joking around, and it's easily the most fun that Lydia's had on a date in forever. She'll have to thank Enid later for taking her to that coffee shop, though she already knows that Enid is going to have a lot of fun teasing her about this when the time comes, which she is not looking forward to as much. 

After the food had been brought out, the two of them had resumed their previous conversation. Carl and Lydia kind of just abandoned the twenty questions game, having lost track of where they were after finishing up the food. They kind of just traded questions with one another without a single care in the world. 

It's nicer than Lydia expected.

Nicer than she deserves.

* * *

"How did you like it?" Carl asks anxiously as the two of them walk out of the restaurant, "I hope I made a decent second impression on you." 

"Oh, trust me, you definitely did," Lydia says, bringing a hand up to her mouth to muffle a giggle, "the brownies and flowers certainly helped."

Carl smiles, looking relieved. "I'm glad."

The two of them start walking back in the direction of the coffee shop, planning on going back to their respective homes (or apartment in Lydia's case) to turn in for the night. It's pretty late now, and Lydia always has been quite nervous when it comes to walking alone at night. Lydia lives in a relatively safe town, but after what happened when she was ten (which she still refuses to think about,) she can't help but be anxious about it. 

Carl and Lydia walk mostly in silence, trading the occasional joke or smile as they go. Lydia isn't complaining much; she likes the silence -- she's always found it kind of comforting. Something that Enid is still kind of horrified by. 

She takes out her phone when Addy messages her, typing in a quick 'i'll be home soon,' so she wouldn't worry. Addy had always been a super big worry-wart, not that Lydia can blame her at all. After all the shit that went on after they first met, worrying is kind of warranted at this point. Carl must notice the look on her face -- which had turned surprisingly sad, and asks, "Is everything alright?" 

Lydia looks up, startled, and shoves her phone back into her pocket. "Nah, just remembering something. Also, my friend apparently thinks I've been murdered, so we should probably hurry up a bit."

"Enid or a different friend?"

"A different one -- met her in highschool. She is also my roommate and somehow doesn't hate my guts for it."

"Why would she hate your guts for being your roommate?" Carl asks, looking super confused at her words. 

Lydia shrugs, her expression turning a tad sheepish. "If you take a look at our apartment, you'll see why. I have pretty much no organization skills, so there is literally shit thrown around everywhere: clothes, food, you name it. It drives Enid crazy, but Addy -- my roommate -- doesn't mind as much for some reason."

Carl has a look of doubt on his face. "Well, Enid has always been a huge perfectionist. And you can't be that bad."

"Trust me," Lydia says, a sheepish look passing over her face, "if you look at the state of my room, you'd be saying something else entirely." 

A sudden and loud laugh escapes from him, and he shakes his head, looking amused. "I mean, you can't be any worse than I am. I may look super organized, but if you asked Enid or my parents, you would realize that it's the exact opposite. My room is a total mess as well -- I honestly can't find anything in there. It drives Michonne, Colette, Elodie, and my dad up the wall -- Judith, RJ, and Andre are pretty much the same way when it comes to organization. We throw shit _everywhere."_

Lydia lets out a startled laugh, "well, we can be unorganized fucks together if you want." Carl snorts, covering his mouth to try and muffle the sound.

"Does this mean we can have a second date?"

Surprised at his bluntness, it takes Lydia a few seconds to regather her bearings and respond. "I... I mean, do you want one?"

He ducks his head, looking bashful. "If it's okay with you."

"O-oh! Then hell yeah! Let's do it." 

"Really?!" A delighted expression crosses over Carl's face. "Okay, cool."

Lydia grins, "glad we have that settled."

"Yeah, same."

There is a brief moment of silence as a cold gust of wind blows around them; Carl shifts nervously, stopping suddenly in his tracks. Curious, Lydia finds herself doing the same. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah! Just got lost in my thoughts," Carl quickly starts moving again, catching up with Lydia in a few broad strides. She finds herself reaching for his hand, which he takes without a moment's hesitation.

"Why are your hands so cold?" Carl asks, sounding amused. Lydia laughs, a hint of red creeping onto her face -- though whether it's from the cold or something else, she isn't entirely sure. 

"Why are your hands so warm?" Lydia shoots back, a playful smile appearing on her face. 

"I guess it's a perfect balance," Carl says, his eye widening dramatically. 

Lydia laughs, leaning into him. "I suppose that you're right."

Carl's expression changes into a more anxious one, and he takes in a deep breath, pulling to a stop. "Can I ask you something?" 

Lydia gives him a curious look, her gaze completely fixated on Carl's face. "Sure, what is it?"

"Can I kiss you?"

It takes Lydia a few moments to realize what he's saying. But when she does, she doesn't answer. Instead, she tilts her head to the left, leaning up to brush her lips against his. Carl leans in as well, closing the gap between them. His lips are warm and soft, surprisingly so. Various threads of warmth blossom in Lydia's chest like a flower -- only strengthening as Carl reaches up a hand to cup her cheek, his skin impossibly warm against her own. 

"Not exactly the answer I was expecting," Carl whispers in a hoarse voice as he pulls back, "but it's certainly a welcome one." Lydia's eyes flutter open, and she lets out a breathy giggle, now gripping Carl's shoulders in a vice grip as she tries to regain control of her bearings. 

"Good," she says quietly, her lips twitching up into a grin as she leans up to kiss him again -- a quick peck of the lips this time, "I like kissing you."

"I do too," Carl says, and Lydia reaches up, brushing his bangs out of his face. Her fingers graze the bandages covering the right side of his face, but her eyes remained pinned on his visible one. Carl swallows, lifting a hand to grab the one resting by his bandage. He pulls it down with great gentleness, rubbing her palm with his thumb, "you can ask, you know. I saw you looking at it earlier."

Lydia shakes her head, lifting her free hand to the visible side of his face, brushing her thumb over Carl's cheek. "You're not comfortable with it, though. Trust me, I can tell."

"I suppose not," Carl agrees, leaning in again. Lydia returns the kiss with equal vigor. "Is this weird? Kissing a literal day after we met?" He asks, his voice quiet when Lydia pulls away. Her eyes are closed, and their foreheads are resting against each other.

"I mean, I don't know. Do you think it is?" 

Carl hums, his breath tickling her cheek, "not really, but I could be wrong."

"I don't think you are." Lydia says, her eyes fluttering open. "We should probably get going, though. I told Addy I would be back by now, so she probably is back to thinking I've been murdered or something."

Carl snorts, an amused smile pulling at his lips. "I suppose we should." 

Lydia smiles, tugging on his arm as they start walking again. "I'll text you tomorrow morning, does that sound okay?" 

Carl squeezes her hand, "that sounds perfect. Though it might take me a bit to respond -- I'm usually working in the morning."

"That's fine by me," Lydia says, bumping her shoulder into his, "what time do you usually have your break?"

"It depends," Carl shrugs, looking sheepish, "If there aren't a lot of customers, then usually around ten-ish."

"Perfect," Lydia says with a smirk, "I'll talk to you then?"

"We're talking now."

"Yes, we are."

Carl's cheeks turn red, "that sounded weird."

"I think it's cute," she says with a grin. Lydia rests her head on Carl's shoulder, humming softly. "You're ridiculous, you know that, right?"

"Are you picking on me?"

"I thought I was making that obvious," Lydia says with a wink, and Carl lets out a bark of laughter.

"I mean, just had to make sure," Carl says, running his free hand through his hair. Lydia reaches up, pulling his hair out from the bun and watching as it falls down to his shoulders.

"I love your hair," she says quietly, carding her fingers through it, "how the fuck did you get it to be so soft? I'm jealous." 

Carl splutters, even more red creeping up on his cheeks. "Your hair is pretty, too!" 

"Yeah, but not as much as yours." Lydia laughs at the look on his face. "Let me compliment you!"

"Only if you stop putting yourself down while doing it."

"That is physically impossible." 

"Negative, are you?"

"Just a little," Lydia agrees, "I mean, you can't tell me that you aren't either."

Carl nods. "I mean, true. I guess we can both be negative, unorganized assholes together, then." 

Lydia grins. "Sounds good to me."

**Author's Note:**

> I have no self control whatsoever. I am literally working on 4 separate stories and I decided to make this. 
> 
> Eh, no regrets. There isn't enough Carlydia content in the world so fuck it.
> 
> Another thing -- I didn't know whether I wanted this to be more comic-based or show-based. So I didn't really mention ages or hair color for Lydia, so you can imagine them however you want. I personally like imagining comic Lydia and show Carl, but you can do whatever you want.


End file.
